


When You're On Your Own

by TastesLikeSTFU



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012), X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Mutants, Alternate Universe - X-Men, Body Horror, Canon Mute Character, Other, Sign Language, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-13 20:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TastesLikeSTFU/pseuds/TastesLikeSTFU
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Frost is outed at his high school as a mutant.<br/>Forced to run from his home, he has no idea what to do or who to turn to.<br/>The Guardians are a small team of mutants that protect Lunanoff's School for the Gifted. But when the school is invaded by a shadowed figure, they know that the school is on the precipice of danger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a way for me to pass my summertime with something fun instead of going to work, coming home, going to sleep and starting again.  
> It _is_ unbeta'd, so if you see any inconsistency in the plot or any spelling errors, don't hesitate to tell me!
> 
> Tags will be subject to change later on in the fic as I am still figuring out where this will go.
> 
> _Additionally, if you should meet the actors, writers, creator, or anyone involved with the show/book/movie this fanfiction is about, please do not inform them, encourage them to read, or make them read this unless you have explained to me in detail why you want to expose them to my writing and have received my explicit permission to do so._

Jack stands in front of his full length mirror in his room. He adjusts his hoodie, and pulls his pants up a bit more on his hips. He pulls a knit cap over his head and makes sure every lock of his snow white hair is tucked under. If anyone at school were to see what his hair really looked like they would know.  
Likewise, Jack keeps bodily contact with anyone of the school populous to a bare minimum. His skin is cold to the touch.  
If anyone were to find out Jack is a mutant, things would be very bad for him _and_ his family.  
He has heard rumors from some mutant friends he's got downtown that the government has a way of finding people like them, people like Jack. If the government finds him and deems him dangerous, they'll take him away and lock him up where he'll never get to see his mom or sister ever again. He can't stand the thought of not being able to see his family.

His mom shouts from downstairs that breakfast is ready and if he doesn't hurry up and eat, then he'll miss the bus. Jack calls back that he'll be right down. He gives himself a final once over in the mirror, judging his appearance to be acceptable and full normal- not a hint of mutant on him- before grabbing his bag up off the floor and leaving his room.  
He manages to scarf down two chocolate chip pancakes before hearing the bus pull up outside. He gives his little sister a kiss on the top of the head, much to her dismay and gives his mom a hug.

"Be careful out there, Jack!" His mom calls as he rushes out the door.

"I will! Love you!" He replies.  


* * *

The Guardians, as they are affectionately known to the student body, stand in Manny's office. There is no sign of Manny, but they surround his desk as if he were sitting right behind it.

"His letter says he's gone to deal with some private business for the next few days. Whatever it is, I say it's big. Real big." Bunny says, brow furrowing in thinly veiled irritation. In his hand, he has the letter Manny left for them.

"I mean, how're we supposed to get a hold of him if something happens within the school? What if something _does_ happen within the school?! Oh, gosh, what do we do? We're just the teachers! How do we run a school?" Tooth titters nervously, flitting all about the room.

"I tell you what," North begins, "we do what we always do. We teach children. If things become bad, we deal with those bad things. Is simple, no? We are Guardians! We are knowing what we are doing. And we are the best of the best. We will handle things."  
Sandy nods emphatically in agreement, pointing at North and rapidly signing something with hands.

"Sandy has a point. And so does North. We're Guardians. We're here to protect the children of the school. That's part of our job." Bunny folds the letter and places it back into the envelope it came from, tossing it back onto Manny's desk.

"How bad can a few days without Manny be?"  


* * *

Jack sits at the back of every class, doesn't say a word unless spoken to and even then, he's as polite as can possibly be.  
He is studious, quiet and blends into the background as well as he can. It's the best way not to get noticed by his peers or his teachers for having any noticeable negative qualities. Someone like him needs to keep out of the line of sight.  
Jack has managed to convince teachers and his fellow classmates that he possesses some severe scars on his head from surgeries as an infant. No one bothers him about his cap. No one bothers Jack Frost in a general sense, because there is nothing about Jack that is bothersome.

Unless you're Lloyd Figgs, a broad in the shoulder, curly haired psychopath with a penchant to beat up anyone that strikes you as remotely different.  
Jack has had nothing but trouble from Figgs since he first arrived in Burgess. Something about Jack's unobtrusive exterior rubbed Figgs the wrong way and it still does. He's constantly shoving Jack against the lockers, smacking the books out of his hands. It's their junior year and Jack doesn't know if he can take much more from Figgs without incident.

Today is no different.

Jack sits at the back of his fourth period Spanish class, taking attentive notes. A crumpled paper ball hits him in the side of the head. He brushes it off and finishes his notes.  
After Spanish, Jack heads for lunch, or at least he tries to. His path is intercepted by one of Figgs's meaty fists ramming into his shoulder, slamming him against the lockers lining the walls just outside the classroom. He grunts and falls to the floor, the blow taking him by surprise.

"Get up, pansy!" Figgs shouts and kicks at him, narrowly missing him. People begin to gather around, whispering and pointing. They know as much as Jack does that things are going to get out of hand.  
"I said _get up_!" This time, the kick does land, hard against Jack's ribs. The air whooshes out of his lungs with an " _Oof_ ".

"Why do you wear that stupid beanie all the time? Is it 'cause you gotta gay haircut? Huh, faggot? Nobody buys that fuckin' story about your scars!"  
Jack gets yanked up by the back of his hoodie and he struggles, to no avail. Figgs is bigger than he is, able to avoid his feeble swings and misplaced elbows. His hand fists in the material of the cap on Jack's head and Jack grabs the edges of it, fighting to keep it in place. Panic sets in his chest. If Figgs takes his cap, he and everyone gathered there will _know_. He's spent the last 17 years of his life hiding from intrusive eyes; he can't have himself exposed now.  
He loses the battle with Figgs's strength, though, and the cap slips from his clenched fingers. His downy, white hair falls from beneath.  
Time slows down, everything stops and then, it all roars to life, louder than before. The crowd around him begins to whisper, the grip on the back of his hoodie loosens and he falls forward, hitting the ground, his palms slapping the tile. Figgs stands above him, blocking his way out.

"The fuck? He's a freak! He's-." Jack whirls around, laying a hand on Figgs's leg and letting his reservations go. Ice creeps up Figgs's pants leg and he cries out, backing up enough to allow Jack's escape. He scrambles to his feet and runs, heart pounding in his chest. He runs from the school, his pale hair shining in the winter sun outside, garnering more whispers and odd looks. He lets the wind pick him up and take him home. The whole time, fear floods his system. He's messed everything up. _Nothing_ will be the same.  


* * *

North is in the middle of teaching a shop class when the lights begin to flicker. It is only seconds before the power goes out completely and a few of his students cry out. It doesn't strike him as odd until the back-up generators fail to power up.  
"Everyone, stay in seats. Let me handle this."  
Murmurs shift in the darkened classroom and North grabs a flashlight from his desk. When he leaves his classroom, he locks the door behind himself.

Flicking on the flashlight, he searches for the fuse box in the hallway. When he checks it, he finds that none of the fuses have burnt out; everything should be in working order.  
A chill runs down his spine when he hears a horse's whinny echo throughout the hall. The sound carries much farther than it should. He turns his flashlight to the end of the hallway only to see the black hooves of the monstrous creature disappear from sight.  
Quickly, he follows it. The mare's hooves make only the slightest sound on the wood floors. North catches sight of it once more as he rounds the corner toward the entrance to the manor. It rears back, whinnying more loudly than before. It gallops over to the doors of the manor, snorting and tossing its head. North's flashlight suddenly dims, then blacks out completely.  
The mare paces around a shadowed man, who raises his hands to stroke along its flank. The shadowed man's laughter is as penetrating as the noises of the mare. The lights flicker once more, returning to full power.

North stands at the edge of the room that makes up the foyer of the mansion, staring at the doors where the man and the mare had once stood. Now, in the light, there is nothing.  


* * *

Jack's mother and sister are the most important things to him. The thought of not being able to see them freely hurts, but the thought of them becoming the brunt of any anti-mutant violence hurts even more. That's why he's leaving. He's packing a few things into his backpack and an extra duffle and leaving while his mother is at work and his sister is at school.  
He has to leave so he can keep them safe.

Instead of riding the wind, he hitchhikes. If he takes the wind, he's bound to be much more noticeable. His hood is pulled up and over his hair, completely. He hadn't had time to grab his only cap from the floor at school.  
He hopes to get as far as Canada, maybe. It's cold there. He can survive and no one knows him. Besides, Canada's laws over refugee mutants are in his favor. The wind buffets his clothes and he's sort of glad it's almost December instead of the warmer months, he would never survive hitchhiking in hot weather. When he makes it to the highway, he sticks out his thumb in an imitation of scenes he's seen in movies.  
He feels completely stupid. That is, until a rickety, old station wagon pulls over. He picks up his duffle bag from the ground, tosses it over his shoulder and makes his way to the passenger side of the station wagon.

"Where you headed, kid?"

Jack gives his most charming smile and says, "Canada. How far can you take me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: The name "Lloyd Figgs" is actually the name of a character from Derf Backderf's graphic novel, _My Friend Dahmer_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to take a moment to thank my lovely friend, Brandi, for looking over everything I've written of this story so far.  
> She is a fantastic person and I couldn't live without her!  
> She's got a tumblr: canyoucounttoanumber.tumblr.com

It is well after dark when North calls the Guardians to Manny’s empty office once more. Each one of them is in their pajamas and looking rather severe with their colleague.  
Bunny crosses his arms over his bare chest, leveling a glare at North as he asks, “You’re sure, mate? It was him?”

North paces restlessly, back and forth, “Of course! It had to be! I know it was! I can feel it… in my _belly_.”

“So, wait, you called us here, in the middle of the night because of your belly?” Bunny replies, eyebrows slowly climbing toward his hairline.

“Is more than that! I am telling you, it was Pitch!”

Tooth’s eyes widen and her tone is disbelieving, “Pitch? Pitch Black? _Here?_ ”  
Her wings buzz animatedly for a few seconds before she drops like a stone into one of the chairs in front of Manny’s desk.

“It was him!”

“All right, all right. So if it was him-.”

“It was!” North interrupts, Bunny ignores him and continues.

“-what are we going to do about it? Why was he here?”

Sandy waves at them from his perch on the edge of Manny’s desk, attempting to get their attention. When Bunny and North continue to argue incessantly, he turns to Tooth only to find that she has turned her eyes to the floor, a troubled expression on her face, and is leaning her head against her fist.  
He hops off the desk, waving his arms and jumping up and down. It gets the poor man nowhere. He grabs a small crystal bell from Manny’s desk and gives it a good, enthusiastic ring.

When each of his friends finally looks at him, he signs out his suggestion.

“That… that makes perfect sense!” Bunny cries and they run from the room, leaving Sandy to try to catch up.  


* * *

It’s about two days before Jack feels like he’s far enough away to call his mom.  
The phone has rang twice when a shaky voice answers, “ _Hello?_ ”

“Hey mom-.”

“ _Jesus Christ, Jack! Where have you been?! We’ve been going-!_ ”

“Mom. Mom! Calm down. Something happened at school. I- kids… found out. I had to leave. I wanted to make sure you guys were all right. I’m- I’m sorry I didn’t-.”

“ _You could have at least left a note or something! You’ve had me worried sick!_ ”

“I know, I know and I’m sorry. I’m… in Canada. I just wanted you to know that I’m okay. I love you both and I’ll be home as soon as I feel like it’s safe. I love you. Bye.

“ _Wait, Jack-._ ”

Jack hangs up and then leans his weight against the side of the car. Truth be told, Jack isn’t in Canada yet, he’s only barely in New York. The station wagon only took him as far as the next two towns over, after that it’s been five or six other cars, only taking him short distances. Any time he couldn’t get a ride, he walked.  
His current ride has stopped outside the RST Petroleum station in Middletown, New York. This one’s a little, old lady who’s offered to buy him a Sprite. She’s really nice and can take him as far as Poughkeepsie.  
Jack turns his phone back off and sticks it into his pocket. Looking at the sky, he knows that the solid block of clouds promises snow. Jack takes a deep breath of the cool air, sighs, and then climbs into the passenger seat, again. The ground outside his door is covered in a thin, barely visible sheet of ice.  


* * *

The globe sits in the center of the ground floor of the manor. It’s large enough to warrant its own room, but there are no doors. It’s quite the center piece.  
The globe has been there since shortly after the manor opened; it was a project North had worked on with Manny. It was one of their first collaborations and one that both men are very proud of. The lack of doors to the room keeps the globe in constant view to passersby within the school. The point of it is to instill hope and wonder into the hearts of every student. There’s not a single person in the school that isn’t allowed to visit the globe room.

The globe itself is a work of scientific wonder. It is like any other globe in most of its appearance- the countries are visible, clearly labeled, as are the oceans. The lines of latitude and longitude are finely painted in and don’t obscure the view of borders or countries.  
But, the most important and remarkable feature of the globe are the millions upon millions of tiny lights that speckle its surface. Each light represents a mutant on the planet. It is there so the students know that, despite being surrounded by hundreds of other mutants in the school, they are not alone. There are more like them all over the world and even if they feel isolated, there will always be someone who knows what they are going through.

It is possibly the most important object in the school. Which is why Sandy’s suggestion that, if it were indeed Pitch Black that had visited, he would have gone right for the globe.

When the Guardians arrive to the globe room, they find that nothing looks to be out of the ordinary.  
The globe is the only source of light in the room and it slowly turns itself upon its axis. Tooth makes a few laps around the circumference of it while North checks its base, axis and degree of rotation. Sandy and Bunny search the room over.

The room is meant to be a hub for student activity as well. Students are welcome to gather in the globe room, to study or hang out.  
There are large windows covered by thick, velveteen curtains. A cushioned seat with pillows on either end makes for the sill of all three windows in the room and bookshelves fill the rest of the space of the walls. Even without doors the room is possibly the quietest room in the whole manor during the day. During the night, it is one of the more peaceful rooms. It is not unusual to find a student or two sitting inside, after dark, just watching the globe spin.  
Tonight, there is no one. The power outage had warned many students to stay in their rooms and not to wander.

“I don’t see anything. Nothing’s out of place, or missing.” Tooth breathes, hovering a distance back from the globe to take it in as a whole.

“The mechanisms are working fine.” North says, standing from his crouch at the base of the globe and dusting his hands on his pants.

“I haven’t found anything wrong.” Bunny says, joining them from the right side of the room.

Sandy comes from the left side of the room and holds out his hand, a turbulent expression on his face. Cupped in the center of his small palm, illuminated dimly by the globe, is a mass of glittering, black sand.  


* * *

The first hint that something is wrong is that the traffic on the interstate has slowed to a crawl.  
Not that that’s an unusual thing when a car accident happens. Traffic tends to get backed up. What is weird is that, when they pass where the car has veered off the road and into the ditch, there are hoof prints in the freshly fallen snow. It’s going to be a pretty difficult next few hours for the rescue teams working because of the snow that’s been falling off and on all day.

Traffic has been redirected to the left lane and is only trickling by the accident. The old lady Jack is riding with rambles on about how _tragic_ it is and she hopes no one was _seriously injured_. Jack lets her words graze over his consciousness and watches the scene of EMTs and firefighters scurrying around the car. They pass by the front end of the car and it looks like the driver plowed right into a rather large animal before sailing into the ditch.

Something by the tree line off the road catches Jack’s eye. What he sees makes his blood run cold.  
A large, black mare with flaring yellow eyes rears up onto her hind legs and punches her front two legs through the air. He can’t hear anything, but he imagines there would be a horrendously loud cry coming from the animal.  
It turns tail and disappears into the trees. Jack swallows thickly and sits facing forward in his seat. If his breathing speeds up a bit or his fingers clench a little tighter into the armrest, well, no one has to know. No one but Jack, that is.  


* * *

“ _Be prepared for an all-out battle in the legislation, today. They’re bringing up the topic of mutant registration! It’s definitely been a- a really controversial subject in the weeks before we found out that it was going to be a federal issue, and today we have a few guests with us to talk about mutant registration and where they stand on the issue._

 _With us, we have Father Sturges from a parish in New York City and Dr. Mary Bennet, a nationally acclaimed geneticist-._ ”

Tooth grimaces and turns the channel to some other mundane television station.  
She really hates politics; she’s more into peace and not really picking at issues that aren’t as important as others. Why can’t the government and all those right-wing whackos leave mutants alone and focus more on things like the economy or poverty or something? Registering mutants isn’t the most important thing right now, in her opinion. But that’s politics, isn’t it? People arguing over how their opinion is better than everyone else’s?

She combs a hand over the bright plumage on her arm, straightening her feathers.  
She also hates that, when humans look at her, they think _freak, monster,_ or _beast_ because of the physical manifestation of her mutation. She hates that when other mutants look at her, all they see is a fairy princess.  
Tooth can be tough too, dammit! No one’s seen her in a fight alongside her fellow Guardians, but if they did… _oh_ , they would think twice about only seeing a fairy.

She huffs a breath from her nose and smooths out her ruffled feathers. The theme music for the local news starts up and Tooth can’t help but wonder if there will be nothing but arguments on this one, too.  
The announcer runs through a short tag line of each story.

“ _...a car accident off the 211 has left a woman in critical condition and authorities are baffled… reports of large, black horses have been coming in from all over the state. Are they true? Or are they a rumor being spread by pranksters…?_ ”

That last one has Tooth up and out of her seat, making a beeline straight from her room.


	3. Chapter 3

The old lady doesn't make it as far as Poughkeepsie. Of course not- just Jack's luck.  
The slowed traffic made their trip longer than it should have been. It only takes an hour or so to drive from Middletown to Poughkeepsie, but an extra 45 minutes was added to their route.  
The sky is getting dark and there aren't very many other cars on the road, now.

It happens in the blink of an eye. A dark blur across the road, a loping animal, jumps right in front of the car. The old lady shouts and tries to swerve to miss it but cranks the wheel too hard and they roll. Jack braces one forearm on the roof of the car, the other on the side of his door. His whole body stiffens, clenching up and he can't even cry out. He hears glass shatter, feels pieces of it cut his face, neck and hands. He can hear his duffle bag and back pack, in the back seat, both rhythmically thumping from the roof to the floor and back again as they roll.

They come to a stop, finally, rocking back and forth just a little and then they settle.  
Jack's breathing comes out fast and deep, more like panting. It feels like all the blood in his body is rushing straight to his head and he's dizzy. Most of his weight is on the arm against the roof of the car and he realizes that they've stopped upside down.  
His hands are bleeding from the cuts where the shards of glass nicked him. He grunts and struggles one handed with the seatbelt, trying to keep from falling on his head. Jack can't get it though; his fingers are too slippery from the blood. He makes a sound of frustration, giving up and freezing the buckle. He fumbles with getting his cell phone from his pocket and eventually succeeds in breaking the metal casing of the buckle by smashing his phone against it a few times. The seat belt clicks open and Jack falls from his seat to the roof with a pained moan.

When he manages to work his way out of the car, he runs over to the driver's side and begins trying to get the old lady out. He's not sure she's alive but no one's final resting place should be in an upside down car off the highway.  
Just as he's freezing the buckle to the old lady's seat something crashes into his ribs, still tender from Figgs's kick a few days earlier, and sends him tumbling through the snow.

He fights to get his wits about him, head spinning worse than before. Jack looks up when he hears a rough snort.  
A horse, much like the one he'd seen earlier that day, towers over him, its head lowered and eyes fixed on him threateningly. Jack can't move, can't even think. He's paralyzed with fear so numbing, so consuming that his mind is merely a jumble of terrified incoherency.

The horse nickers, raising its head. It rears back on its legs and one singular thought comes to Jack with surprising clarity. It's the thought, the inkling, that this is the brute from earlier. It _has_ to be.  
The horse starts to descend and Jack squeezes his eyes shut, waiting for the terrible force of its hooves. An explosion goes off, a flash of light, and Jack is showered in debris. He gasps, opening his eyes, only to see an empty space where the horse once stood. Jack stands quickly, but wishes he hadn't when the world swirls before his eyes. He jumps when a voice from the darkness calls,

"Kid, are you all right!?"

The voice belongs to a tall man who emerges from the shadows, a boomerang in one hand and a concerned look on his face. His eyes dart around, looking for any sign of another horse.

"I- I'm fine. There's a- a woman in the car. I don't know of sh- she's alive or not. Call an ambulance."

The man nods once and runs over to the car. Jack stands, seemingly frozen to the spot, and listens to the sounds of the man freeing the old lady from her seat.  


* * *

When Bunny arrives back at the manor with a teenage boy in tow and a grim expression on both of their faces, Sandy knows that it did not go well.  
The scratches all over the boy's face and hands, as well as blood smudges all over his clothing and dark circles under his eyes spell trouble.

Sandy zooms over to them, hands frantic with questions and eyes wide with dread.

" _Sandy_. Stop. The kid's been in an accident, he doesn't need your fingers in his face." Bunny lays a large hand on Sandy's shoulder and moves him aside.

"Get North. Tell him to meet us in the infirmary."

Sandy nods determinedly and flies off down the hall, running into some of the few students still in the halls at this time of night. He pats their arms or backs lightly, serving them apologetic looks as he passes by.

In the infirmary, Bunny sits Jack on one of the thin, but comfortable beds.  
"You wait right here." He gently presses the flat of his large palm against Jack's shoulder in a somewhat comforting gesture.  
Jack nods his affirmation of having heard Bunny, even though his eyes are fixed on a point over the man's shoulder. Bunny leaves Jack alone for only a few moments.

Jack's hood has been pulled up, covering his hair, ever since the moment he'd answered Bunny's call from the dark. It was the first thing he'd done, but now he doesn't think he'd be so strange in comparison. Bunny had introduced himself as 'Aster Bunnymund', a frankly frightening, six foot tall man with tribal tattoos down his arms and on his face.

Jack has him to thank for saving his life.

The doors to the infirmary open and Bunny re-enters, along with the short man named Sandy and a rather large, intimidating man. (Jesus, the guy's gotta be at least seven feet!)  
"…on the side of the road, about to be crushed by one of those horses. It looked a lot like what you were describing. An elderly woman was in the car with him, we had to cut and run before the ambulance got there, though. I'm a bit rubbish at first aid, North, and he needs your help."

"Is no problem, Bunny," the large man says, taking one look at Jack and turning to root through the cabinets for something. He withdraws a roll of gauze and some tape from one cabinet and scissors, tweezers, and antiseptic wipes from another.  
North takes a seat on the bed across from Jack's, laying his supplies down next to his leg.

"May I see your hands?" He asks mildly, holding out one thick hand of his own. Jack tentatively places his right hand in North's. Despite having such wide fingers and looking so brutish, North's touch is deceptively gentle. He examines the cuts on Jack's hand, then gets to work on cleaning and bandaging them. He removes small bits of glass from the larger cuts.  
Only when he moves to Jack's other hand does he speak.

"I am Nicholas St. North. What is your name?"

Jack looks up at North, then over at Bunny and Sandy nearby. He watches the two in conversation for a few seconds- Sandy signing, Bunny replying out loud- before murmuring, "Jack Frost."

"Welcome, Jack Frost. It is pleasure having you here, but is not pleasure how you came to _be_ here. Tell me your story." It is worded in the way of a demand, but spoken like a request.  
When Jack remains silent, North intones, "It is all right you do not wish to speak. There is pain all across your face. And I am knowing that, sometimes, it is hard to speak with pain covering your mouth."

Jack doesn't quite get it and almost says so, but rethinks it and keeps quiet.

North works quickly and efficiently on Jack's cuts, but when he makes to remove the hood and start on the ones on his face, Jack turns his head away, leaning back only slightly.  
"I'm a freak," he says, "I'll pull down my hood and you'll know what I am and you won't want to be near someone like me. You won't be able to stand the sight of me."

"Jack. I am grown man. I can be making decisions for myself, yes? Whatever this is, this thing you are not wanting to be seen, I assure you, is not the worst I have seen. Let me clean the cuts on your face. Please?"

Jack swallows thickly, looking back over at Bunny and Sandy, fearful that, while North might understand, they might not.  
He holds the edges of his hood in a death grip before shakily lowering it. North only says, "See? Is better for me to be getting at the other cuts on sides of your face without the hood in the way."  
With that, he opens another antiseptic wipe and swipes lightly at one nasty looking cut on the boy's cheek.

"You're- you're not-?"

"Not what? Not being scared or disgusted by your mutation? Is tame compared to some I have seen. You will be fine here, Jack. In our presence, you will be fine."

Jack laughs a little breathily, then harder, a high, wheezing note of hysteria bleeding its way into his mirth.  
"Oh, _God_ , he gasps, grinning, "oh, you- you're okay with- with _me_."

"Of course I am okay! If it will be making you feel better to know, I am mutant, too. As is Bunny and Sandy and everyone in this building."

"This is a building full of mutants?" Jack's voice takes on that high note of hysteria once more.

"Yes. Is _school_ full of mutants. Is place of refuge," North pauses in his ministrations to look Jack straight in the eye, "Is home."


	4. Chapter 4

After the past few days on the road, a warm bed in a room of his own is the nicest thing in the world. North made a promise to come and visit with Jack tomorrow.

At this point, Jack isn’t sure of anything.  
Is he staying at this school, and if so, for how long? What does he tell his mom? What about his sister? What will she think? There’s so much involved in moving schools in general, paperwork and the like. How is he going to get any of those things?  
The worries weigh on him but he merely sinks farther into his pillow and sleeps without dreaming.  


* * *

When Jack wakes to the sun streaming in through the window, it really confuses him. At home, he had his window covered over completely, not one trace of sunlight was ever able to worm its way into his bedroom.  
It takes him a few moments after waking to adjust to the fact that he’s not in Pennsylvania anymore. He sits up and makes to rub a hand over his eye but encounters the gauze wrapped in layers over his skin. Instead, he blinks a few times, stands, yawns and makes his way to the door.  
Cautiously, he pokes his head out and looks either direction down the hallway. He steps out and closes the door behind. There’s a slight chill in the hall and even though it doesn’t bother Jack (if cold ever bothers him, then something’s gotta be wrong…) it does make him realize how naked he feels without his hoodie.

He’d been given a fresh change of clothes when showed to his room- a white tee, grey sweatpants and ridiculously comfortable socks. While he’d been relieved to find that Bunny had deposited his duffle and backpack in the room they’d chosen for him, he was also beat and changed sleepily into the clothes they gave him instead of the ones he’d packed.  
Now, he’s choosing to explore the manor in the borrowed clothing.

He can’t deny being insanely impressed by the size of the place.  
With its high ceilings and ornate rugs and delicate flower arrangements placed randomly on little tables older than Jack himself, he did expect a certain… air of pretentiousness. But none of that came. The men he’d met the other night hadn’t had the stereotypical air of superiority about them that came from living in a place so big.  
North had been telling the truth, this is a school. Jack’s seen maybe three or four kids walk by him carrying books or with bags slung over their shoulders.  
One kid even walked through a wall _right in front of Jack_. It was boggling. If anyone had done that back in Burgess, they would have been ambushed.  
But he’s not in Burgess anymore. It’s a vaguely freeing thought.

He continues down the hallway, idly looking around, and hands swinging easily by his sides. Something up ahead catches his eye and he breaks into a comfortable jog to approach it more quickly.  
It is a wide open doorway, set in a stretch of oak paneled wall. It’s very visible, now that Jack comes up on it.  
The closer he gets to it, the more of the interior he can see and the more awe begins to pool in his stomach. What he can see is the growing edge of a large globe, covered with twinkling little lights.

“Wow.” He breathes, fully entering the room, now.  
The globe spins slowly, the little lights speckled across the surface reminiscent of the lights Jack would wind around the tree at Christmastime with his family. When the memory surfaces, so does a sinking feeling. He misses them, needs to let them know that he’s safe. Especially after the conversation with his mom over the phone yesterday… 

He walks around the room, alternating between gazing up at the globe in wonderment and browsing over the titles on the shelves.  
Jack doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting there when a bell sounds out in the building and the sounds of bustling students follows shortly after. He can see handfuls more of the kids walking by.  
There goes a girl with blue skin, conversing with her girlfriends, a boy showing off by spitting fire high into the air. A sudden contentment settles over Jack, like he belongs. And it is comforting knowing that, for once, he’s not the weirdest person in the building. Not by a long shot.

The halls die down and all is quiet once more. Jack sits on one of the cushioned seats by a window, nestling down. He likes this room, it’s calm, serene, and he can watch this odd globe and not have to hide. Jack likes this place, he really does. Maybe, sometime soon, he can come to call it his home.

He ends up picking a book from the shelf, a great, leather bound thing, and starts to walk out when he runs straight into someone.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going and-.”

“-no, no, it was all my fault, _I’m_ sorry-.”

Jack looks up to meet eyes with a woman covered in feathers, bright tropical plumage he’d only ever seen in a zoo or on the Discovery Channel.  
Her eyes are violet and the feathers are sleekly aligned as far as he can see, not one quill seems to be out of place.  
He realizes, belatedly, that he’s staring and the woman has stopped speaking. She’s looking at him with an expression on her face that says she’s done this before.

“Your feathers are really cool.” He blurts and then blushes.

Her brows move seamlessly beneath the feathers, moving toward her forehead.

“I- I didn’t mean to-.” He presses a palm to his face and stands for an awkward moment.

“You must be Jack.” The woman hedges, a small smile curling her mouth, “I’m Toothiana, I’m a teacher here. You can call me ‘Tooth’ for short.”

Jack sinks further into his pit of despair and embarrassment. He just told a teacher she looked cool and sounded like an _idiot_. How is this his life?

“Um, yes. Hi.”

Tooth notices where he’s come from, looking from Jack to behind him. She flutters around him and this is the first time he notices she’s got translucent wings.

“It’s pretty impressive, isn’t it?” She asks. Jack’s sure it’s rhetorical, but he joins her side and says, “Yeah,” anyway.

“Do you know anything about this place yet, Jack?” Tooth asks.

“No. Not really, North just told me that this was a school for mutants.”

“Well, it is. Here, we teach a variety of subjects. But we also teach students how to handle their abilities, if they do, indeed, have any. To control their power, so that it does not control them.”

There is a moment of silence as they both watch the globe turn before Tooth says, “Each light is a mutant, out there. Every single one.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

They stand, each waiting for the other to fill the silence but neither breaking it first.  
The sounds of small feet pattering against the wooden floor toward the globe room reach their ears and they turn almost simultaneously to see a little girl with long, stringy blonde hair skid passed the door way. She quickly back tracks, poking her head around the corner, “Miss Tooth! Jamie got stuck in one of the trees outside. We need your help.”

“What are you guys doing outside in the first place, Sophie? It’s freezing out! C’mon, let’s go get silly Jamie un-stuck from the tree.” She smiles as the little girl takes her hand and begins to pull her along.

“I’ll see you later, Jack! I hope your first day here is wonderful!” She waves to him.  
Jack listens to their gentle banter fade as they slowly make their way outside, a smile playing his face.  


* * *

“I was trying to get a better view, Miss Tooth! I swear!” Jamie grins his gapped grin at Tooth.

“A better view of what, Jamie? The trees that cover most of our grounds or the road leading here that takes up the rest?” She replies good-naturedly, buzzing up and attempting to extricate Jamie’s coat from the tiny sprigs in the tree’s branches.

“Well, no,” He admits, and Tooth isn’t sure whether the rosy hue across his cheeks is from the cold, or if he’s just being bashful, “I saw something moving in the trees; I wanted to see what it was. So I climbed the tree ‘cause sometimes being high up makes it so you can see better.” He shrugs.

“What’d it look like?” Tooth finally gets Jamie untangled, catching his free falling weight in her arms and then gently setting him on his feet.

“I can’t really say. It was there and then it wasn’t, I didn’t get to see it well enough.” Jamie says, straightening out his coat. He turns to take his sister’s hand. Tooth makes an inquisitive sound.

“Let’s go back inside, kids. It’s a little too cold out here for me.” Tooth jokes and her smile is a little stiff and little too twitchy around the edges. Jamie and Sophie, however, do not notice. They walk back to the mansion together, Tooth glancing frequently over her shoulder at the trees. Some of the tension in her shoulders eases once they are safely inside.

“Don’t go climbing anymore trees, Jamie.” Tooth warns him warmly, sending the siblings on their way and hoping they’ll find something much more productive to do.  
She flits down the hall quickly and quietly, headed the opposite direction of the children, toward her classroom. Maybe she’ll be able to get some papers graded for the older students.

She does not see the figure moving stealthily along the tree line. In fact, the figure is barely noticeable, cloaked in dark and staying solely beneath the lowest branches of the trees, here and then gone in the blink of an eye…


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry I'm late on posting but I had a bunch of stuff to do as I'm starting my first semester of college next month. I've been super busy and will likely continue to be busy, so chapter updates may be few and far between for the time being.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this latest one. It's a lot longer than my usual updates have been.
> 
> I did have to delete this chapter and re-post because AO3 was fucking with my html and italicising whole paragraphs that didn't need to be. I'm still having problems with it and will only be able to really work on it tomorrow, so I'd suggest checking back in then rather than reading it the day of publication.

Jack explores more of the mansion and, after a while, finds himself lost. He wanders down a few empty corridors looking for someone free of a classroom. He would hate to interrupt an entire class because he doesn’t know which direction he’s just come from.  
Jack peeks around the window frames in the doors, but only finds room after room filled with students in discussion or with their heads bowed over their notebooks, working. At the very end of the hallway he’s in, Jack finds a classroom with only one occupant, Sandy, sitting at his desk, appearing- for all the world- to be asleep and snoring in his chair.

Jack opens the door to the room as quietly as he can manage, hoping not to startle the man.  
Sandy’s snores are soundless and he seems to be in deep sleep when Jack approaches him. Reaching out a pale hand, he nudges the man’s shoulder gently.  
Sandy wakes up without reaction, just opens his eyes, blinks and smiles up at Jack. It’s possibly the most neutral reaction to being roused in the middle of the day he’s ever seen.  
Sandy waves cheerily at him, sits up in his chair and then begins to sign something to Jack who hasn’t the foggiest idea what any of the gestures mean.

“I’m sorry, Sandy, I don’t know sign language.”

Sandy makes a flippant gesture with his hand, his lips quirking up and pressing into his cheeks at the corners in a smile that is almost teasing.

“ _That’s all right, Jack. I have other ways of communicating._ ”  
Sandy throws his head back in silent laughter when Jack startles and nearly trips over his own feet.

“Holy- jeez- what- are you telepathic?”

“ _I can neither control nor read minds. I can only speak to them._ ”

Jack laughs a surprised laugh that tapers off, “I was just wondering if you could point me back toward my room? I kind of… got lost.”

“ _Of course. I’ll walk with you, even. I’ve nothing better to do._ ”

They venture from Sandy’s room together, walking side by side down the hall. A few comfortable seconds pass when Jack turns and asks, “So, do you normally talk directly into people’s heads?”  
He winces when he realizes how poorly he phrased that but Sandy only smiles at him.

“ _Not normally, no. I feel like it’s too intrusive, but in some cases it can’t be helped. I actually teach the sign language course at the school. Which I will be seeing you enrolled in, no doubt?_ ”

Jack smiles, “Yeah. I guess I have to enroll soon, don’t I?”  
Even as he says it, he has his doubts. It’s only his first full day of residing in the school and he doesn’t know if he will truly be able to stay. He changes the subject.  
“You said you can’t read or control minds. Does that mean your telepathy isn’t strong? Is it like a secondary mutation?"

“ _I like that, ‘secondary mutation’. And yes, it is. I’m a dream walker, first and foremost. At night I traverse students’ dreams. I know that sounds bad, but I can tell when someone’s dream isn’t a good dream. I help the younger students with their nightmares, mostly. Overall, I aid in encouraging students by delivering good dreams.”_

“That’s really cool! I wish I had something as helpful as that.”

“ _Why? What is your mutation, Jack?_ ”

“I have the ability to create a spontaneous, instant snow day.” Jack jokes and Sandy’s laughter resounds in his head this time. The sound is light and tinkling and one would be hard-pressed to have a bad day in Sandy’s presence.  
They continue down the hallway, Jack following Sandy’s lead, conversing all the while about their mutations.  
Jack explains that he can control the weather to an extent- if it’s cold, wet or gloomy, he’s your guy- and he tiptoes around the story of how he came to be at the school. They reach the door to his room in no time and just as Sandy bids Jack farewell, the bell rings.  


* * *

The expanse of pines covering the grounds around the school is eerily still and muted compared to the bustling innards of the building itself.  
The trees condense, growing closer together the farther away from campus they get. Snow pads the dirt, unmarred by anything but the frequent scattering of fallen pine needles. In the deepest parts of the forest, barely any sun reaches the earth and the snow is even thicker there.  
Rumors about the forest surface from time to time amongst the students and the upperclassmen have taken to calling it “The Forbidden Forest” in homage to Harry Potter. Some say that the trees were planted in such a way as to add security around the school- others even say that it was all Bunny’s doing. The man is famous for his green thumb (another rumor circulating is that Bunny’s mutation is botanical at its source. But everyone knows what his mutation _really_ is).

It is at the very front of the tree line, closest to the school, that a black mare- sighted all across New England, now- paws at the snow and snorts a heavy, steaming breath. Its wild mane thrashes violently in the gentlest winter zephyr and its eyes are fixed unblinkingly at the building.  
Abruptly, the mare charges into the forest at top speed, heading straight for the recesses of the wood where its master stands, waiting in the shadows between the lowest branches of a pine.

“What can you tell me, dear one?”

A tall, regal man steps from the shadows into a weak beam of sunlight. His stance is militant; spine straight, shoulders firmly aligned, chin up- a very striking figure, indeed.  
His eyes, nearly colorless, fix on the mare as if listening intently. His face breaks into an oily grin, his crooked, discolored teeth mismatched when compared to his posture.

“They won’t suspect a thing. Once we bring down the Guardians, the rest of the plan will be free to set into motion,” he runs a flat hand over the mare’s nose, “go tell the others we’re ready. The wait is over.”  


* * *

North comes to talk with Jack after the day’s classes are over.  
Jack is lying on his stomach on his bed, reading the book he snatched from the globe room. He jumps at the sound of the knock, nearly tossing the book to the floor.

“Come in!” He calls.

North opens the door a bit to allow himself room enough to slip through and then closes it, “Hello, Jack. How has your first day treated you?”

“Pretty well, I’d say!”

“That is good! I wanted to sit and talk with you about your staying here.” North replies, making to sit at the foot of the bed. Jack marks his page fumblingly with gauze wrapped hands, then sits up, crossing his legs to give North space.  
“First, I must be asking if you would like to attend the school.”

Jack gives it some thought before saying, “Yeah, I’d love to. I mean I know it’s only my first day, but I really like it here. There is one thing though- what would I do about my family back home? How do I let my mom know I’ve gone off and enrolled and am _living_ in a whole new school?”

North puts on a contemplative face and then says, “We can call her. I will talk with her and explain everything, if you like.”

“I would like that very much. I- I don’t want to worry her more than I already have.” Jack admits, sheepishly, scraping his fingers through the hair at the back of his head.  
North nods and then stands, slapping his hands on his knees, “Let’s get you enrolled, Jack Frost.”  


* * *

Jack is enrolled in his classes by dinner time and is able to join the general populous of the school to eat.  
He sits at a table with a handful of other kids his age who are intrigued but not offended by his white hair and his icy cold skin. One girl, Janet, even makes a joke about him being a paler version of Edward Cullen. He gets his revenge by freezing her bottom lip to the edge of her milk carton.

When he goes to bed that night, he goes with a feeling of contentment, more comfortable than he has ever been when surrounded by a large number of people. Though, he’s still got his worries weighing on him, his fear for his family and what may be going on in the aftermath of his sudden disappearance. It takes him a while to get to sleep, despite feeling happier with his surroundings.  
He lies on his back in bed, arms crossed behind his head and he sighs, thinking that yeah, this place could work.  


* * *

Jack is awakened by the sound of thunder. At least, he’s _sure_ it’s thunder, but after listening to it for a few moments, it sounds too discordant to be a storm- not that storms in general are harmonious in the least. But there is a consonance to the chaos of a torrential downpour that the sound Jack hears is lacking. It actually sounds more like the rumbling of a stampede or something.  
He stands from the cool, coziness of his bed to pull the curtains aside and scrutinize the grounds. It’s dark as pitch outside but it looks like something out there is moving. Whatever it is, it’s blending into the nighttime, moving seamlessly against the darkness. Clouds in the sky lend to the impression of an impending storm, they block out the moon, cover the land and keep the starkness of the snow from reflecting any light that might be helpful.  
Jack’s eyes adjust a bit to what he’s seeing and he can differentiate golden specks in moving blackness, like fireflies in summer. It gives him the creeps but he has to go and see what it is.

On the ground floor of the mansion, there is a bank of windows in one of the main corridors, by a pair of doors that lead out to the forest. A few, small trees like the one Jamie got stuck in stand in front of the windows, widely and evenly spaced, allowing for enough room to see through the windows themselves.  
It is at this bank of windows that Jack finds he isn’t alone. He arrives to see dozens upon dozens of other kids with their faces pressed to the glass, eyes wide. Some of the younger ones are frightened and they cling to the hands, arms or torsos of the older students closest to them.  
The rumbling is much louder down here, nearer to the source and it practically drowns out the sound of the students’ murmurs and worried conversations. A girl in the queue says loudly, “Somebody, go get the Guardians!”  
A little boy with tawny brown hair runs from the throng down a fork in the hallway at the girl’s words. Jack joins the crowd in the boy’s place, sifting through people and moving in close. The darkness moves with an unnatural fluidity and the hairs along the back of Jack’s neck prick up and stand on end. A sick curdling feeling of dread twists inside of him. Something about this isn’t right.

The Guardians turn out to be the people Jack has met systematically throughout his day at the mansion. Tooth zooms above the students and flattens her hands to the glass, eyes squinting out. North remains at the back of the crowd, as do Bunny and Sandy; they ask questions of the surrounding students. The little boy with tawny hair disappears among the other children once more.  
Jack hears Bunny ask someone, “Does this… whatever _this_ is, does it go all around the school?”

“I don’t know,” comes the reply, “I’ve been over here the whole time.”

Almost immediately after it is said, there is the deafening sound of shattering glass, not only coming from right in front of them, but all around them, all over the school. Winter winds rush in, chilling young bodies to the bone.  
Students’ screams fill the air with more noise and panic sets in. Everyone is running around and it seems almost too hectic, but Jack realizes that they are all running away from the now empty, gaping window panes- everyone but Jack is running, to be precise.  
Jack stands, frozen to the spot and it’s like all else freezes too, when howls pierce the darkness. There’s no telling when one howl ends and another begins, it’s all a continuous, unbroken cry. A student runs toward the window, holding his hand out in front of himself and waving it through the air. At once, a line of fire ignites outside, melting the snow and burning the grass underneath. It separates them from what is out there and it gives light to the mysterious force for the first time.

Huge, black horses run non-stop, unperturbed by the fire, their hides like stained glass or oil, sheened and reflective, toxic looking, even. Closer to the flames stands a tall man with a face all but grey in complexion. His gaze is fixed inside the school, a dreadful smirk plastered on.  
Somewhere above him, Tooth cries out in shock.  
The man steps over the flames and behind him, from the trees, another, louder round of howls goes up.

“I must say,” the man begins, and it’s striking how audible he is over the din of beating hooves, haunting howls and panicking students, “I’m a little impressed. You’ve all managed to neglect your students. It’s pretty… _dim_ of you teachers, wouldn’t you say?”  
The man smiles and suddenly horses break off from the tide, leaping with terrifying grace and bounding straight into the school, through the broken windows. The horses begin to scoop up students with ease, carrying them right back out and throwing them into the blurred blackness of the stampede where they disappear with soft cries. This surprises the Guardians into action and they attempt to floor the mares before they make it back outside. The man stands laughing and gestures expansively for another flood of the nightmarish creatures to invade.  
A little girl with bright pajamas and little fairy wings sticking through holes cut into the back of the shirt rockets by, being chased by a horse. Jack takes a run at it then stops in its path, moving his body to lower his center of gravity. As the thing nears at top speeds, Jack moves fluidly and bends back, driving the arch of his bare foot against the underside of its jaw. A flash of light bursts and the horse drops, body dissolving into sand.

“What the-?” He mumbles to himself, head quickly snapping around to find purchase among the bedlam. He sees the little girl with fairy wings cowering in a far corner, his big brother instincts kick in, and he rushes over to her.  
Up close, Jack can see markings on her face that look remarkably similar to Tooth’s feathers and her eyes are two different colors. He picks her up gently, asking, “You all right, Baby Tooth?”  
She smiles hesitantly at the nickname and nods.

“Hold on, okay?” Jack tucks her over his shoulders and grimaces at Baby Tooth’s tight grip on his hair.

Jack tries to help the Guardians and various other students to bring down the horses but there are just too many of them. Jack retreats, using the wind to lift him and Baby Tooth up into the rafters.  
If there’s one thing he can do, it’s protect the girl.

He watches as Tooth brings down horse after horse with rapid-fire punches, as Bunny leaps at them, firing powerful kicks not unlike the one Jack used, as Sandy destroys them with singular blows from his whips (whips?) and as North attacks them with brute force.  
Jack marvels as their attacks coordinate every so often and can’t help but feel the name of “the Guardians” is well deserved.  
A mare breaks off from the initial attack and runs from the center of the action down the hall right beneath Jack and Baby Tooth. Jack makes his split-second decision and goes after it, Baby Tooth’s tiny fingers clenching against his scalp as he picks up speed.

His hands crackle with power beneath the gauze and he knows he won’t be able to get the wrappings off without losing sight of the horse. Instead, he grabs what looks like a Shepard’s crook from the hands of a wooden sculpture by a small, antique table. Jack’s momentum causes the table to tip over and fall loudly to the hard, wood floor.  
The mare he’s chasing stops dead in its tracks and turns toward the sound. Without thinking, Jack raises the crook and focuses his power into it. What looks like a burst of white electricity shoots from the end just as the mare rears back on its hind legs.  
The ice seals itself to the mare, freezing it to the woodwork. The pattern it creates is fantastical, black melding into a frosty white, and Jack pokes at it with the crook, sending a few sparks flying.  
Baby Tooth tugs at Jack’s hair and he nods, “We should head back. We’ll show this to the Guardians…”

They make their way back to the bank of windows, everything eerily silent. There is no yelling or screaming, no thudding of monstrous hooves, no fighting, no crunching glass or panicking students. The silence is alarming and oppressive.  
He creeps down the hallway, cautious, holding the crook aloft like a weapon, only to come upon it empty but for the Guardians.  
Tooth is sitting on the floor, on her knees, her face in her hands. Sandy has his small arms wrapped around her shoulders as well as he can and Jack can hear her sobbing. North is standing with his arms crossed, an agitated look on his face, and then he begins pacing restlessly, back and forth. Bunny moves past North from the direction of the infirmary, holding medical supplies in his arms.  
He coaxes Tooth’s hands from her face and starts on patching the cuts on her face and the splits in her knuckles. While he may still be rubbish at first aid, Bunny can do this much for his friend.

“They’re all _gone_.” Jack hears her say and it doesn’t ring true to him. Everyone? Every single student? _Gone?_  
Thinking on it, Jack knows that it’s entirely possible. The sheer number of horses that charged in alone was enough to worry anyone.

He approaches carefully, stepping over broken glass while bare foot. He catches the eye of Sandy, whose face betrays his relief. He comes running to Jack, waving his hands frantically at him. He pulls at Jack’s shirt, yanking him in the direction of Bunny and Tooth.  
There are a million questions running through his head but Jack settles with, “Are you guys okay?”  
The faces of the other Guardians turn in his direction, expressions of shock apparent.

“My God! Jack!” Tooth cries, flying out from under Bunny’s caring hands and straight at Jack. She grips him in a tight embrace, twirling in a quick circle before pulling back and catching sight of the little one on his shoulders.  
“Oh, thank goodness one of you is all right!” She makes grabby hands at the girl and holds onto her tight, cradling her protectively.

Bunny bounds over to them, “Are you hurt, Jack?”

“No, no I’m fine. What the hell just happened?”

North’s mouth is drawn down, his brows close together and he looks anxious, troubled, when he says, “Pitch Black has taken the students. Every last one of them, everyone except for you, that is.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for sticking with me and continuing to read. I know WIP stories can be tough if you really like the plot or the writing. Thank you for all the kudos and bookmarks and comments, I really appreciate it. It makes me feel good about this whole endeavor!

The fire created by the helpful student at the beginning of the attack has died down to nothing more than smoking embers in the grass. Jack had seen the boy get carried off by one of the mares, unconscious and being dragged by the leg of his pants. It is an unpleasant mental image and one Jack isn’t likely to forget for a long time. The looks of pure terror on everyone’s faces will be seared into his memory. They had been wholly unprepared for this and there wasn’t much he could do in the first place, but it still makes him feel awful.  
Now, Jack assists in clean up as best as he can. He leans the crook against a wall and takes the broom from North’s outstretched hand. It’s going to be difficult trying to sweep up all the glass in the mansion if every window had been broken. Jack wonders, for the first time, what they’re going to do about all of the open panes.  
As they work, they talk, mostly about small things in an attempt to keep the mood light. Jack comes to find that Bunny is a shape shifter of some kind (but Bunny won’t tell him about it and Jack can’t fathom why that is. He just wants to know).

“So, does everyone have whips or is that just Sandy?” Jack asks, idly sweeping glass into a pile.

Sandy tosses his head back in laughter, slapping his hand to his knee and shaking with mirth.

“No, Jack,” Bunny says, a great big grin on his face, “not all mutants have an ability that makes up for what they lack physically. Sandy is a bit shorter and while his ability is useful in a mental sense, he can’t dream his opponents to give up.”  
And as if on second thought, Bunny tacks on, “No offense, Sandy.” The man in question shrugs carelessly in reply.

“Some people don’t need weapons. Some of us are lucky enough to be able to rely on our abilities alone. I mean, North’s got swords but those are just for aesthetic. Who wants a seven foot mutant running at you with sabers?”  
They share a laugh, but the good feeling doesn’t last long, the reality of the situation seeping in around the edges.  
The wind blows in through the broken windows, tousling Jack’s hair and plucking at his t shirt. A powerful gust spreads the tiniest bits of powdered glass out of the pile he has yet to sweep into the dust pan. He can hear Tooth shivering; can see Bunny’s breath steaming in the air. He looks at his hands, clenches the hand not holding the broom into a fist and can feel his partially healed cuts pulling the surrounding skin, small dots of blood have oozed through the bandages. Jack can’t take the bandages off, not yet and his hands feel so thick with the gauze covering them. He’s lucky he hadn’t needed stitches at least.  
The crook leans against the wall innocently, nondescript, blending perfectly with its surroundings. Jack looks at the open windows, then back at the crook and makes his decision.

He sets the broom aside and grabs the staff, gripping it with determination.  
Approaching the windows, he sets the end of it along the edge of the window. Jack takes a breath, tightens his grip, lifts the staff and taps it against the wood. A small spark goes up and frost blooms in its wake. The Guardians move around behind him, slowly making their way to other parts of the ground floor.  
Jack presses the crook back down more firmly, lets his power pour into the wood beneath his fingers and takes off running down the bank of windows. Thick ice creeps up the sides of the frame, climbing toward the ceiling and blocking the hole over. By the time Jack reaches the end of the bank of windows, ice has taken the place of glass and the wind is unable to penetrate the barrier.  
He walks back to where the Guardians stand, balancing the staff over his shoulder. He grows uneasy at their wide-eyed stares.

Jack clears his throat, looks away and says, “That should be a little better. Might have to- uh- to do that with all the windows…” He trails off awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot.  
They’ve all gathered together again, grouped in a little lump in the open space around them and each one of them staring at Jack.  
He feels so foolish for thinking that, maybe, now that he’s around other mutants, he wouldn’t be stared at. But it seems he was wrong. He clears his throat inelegantly again and twists the staff his hand, the back curved portion behind him brushing his hair a little.

“I’m gonna… I’m just… I’ll be going now. To- um- clean elsewhere.” He nods decisively and makes to pass the Guardians. A large, warm hand flings out and curls around his upper arm, jerking him to a halt.

“Jack,” North’s voice is low and careful, “that was _fantastic_. How old are you?”

“Uh, 17.”

“You’ve got to be at least Level Three. _At least_.”

Jack looks at the others’ faces and where he first saw judgment and fear, he now sees awe and wonder. They’re not staring at him, but at the iced over wall behind him. The ice must be 4 inches thick and is still see-through. The outlines of the ground and trees outside waver and steam rolls thinly off the ice. If Jack listens closely enough, he can hear the minute clicks of the ice cracking, the heat returning bit by bit to the room and contrasting with the cold surface.

“Would you be able to do the rest of the windows?” Tooth asks, looking from the window to Jack.

Jack shrugs, feeling his cheeks warm a few degrees and avoiding her direct gaze, “Yeah, easy.”  


* * *

Half an hour later and the manor is much cozier but not quite back together. The ice is a poor substitute for glass and won’t last for very long. But it gets the job done and keeps it bearable while Jack and the Guardians are still inside (even though Jack seriously prefers the cold and would be more comfortable sleeping in the snow outside than he is sleeping under layers of blankets).

They end up in Manny’s office, a safe-haven recently, it seems.  
Baby Tooth loosens her grip from Tooth’s feathers, fluttering down with her powerful pint-sized wings and pattering her way across the floor rug over to Jack.  
She climbs up into his lap where he sits in one of the chairs in front of the desk. She squirms until she is comfortable and Jack holds her hands in his and she messes with his fingers while the Guardians discuss.  
Jack has no idea what to do, where to go now- the fragile roots he’d begun to set down have already been ripped from their foundations. He listens as the Guardians plan and argue over what to do next.  
Their words are gentle, soft spoken and colored with concern in the tones of their voices. Jack could fall asleep to this, listening to them, sitting in the office of a vague headmaster he’s never even heard of, let alone met. But the sick twist of dread and apprehension in his chest keeps him awake.

“Why did that guy take the students anyway?” Jack asks, suddenly.

There is a moment of hesitation in the room before North says, “The students are what makes the school. Without them we are nothing- our mission is to show them that they are not alone and to keep them safe. What happened tonight has more than likely affected their faith in us as the Guardians. Pitch knows this.”

Jack picks Baby Tooth up, sits her on the arm of the chair and stands to pace a bit. The staff leans against the back of the chair. Jack kicks the bottom of the staff, catches the upper half of it and twirls it mindlessly around his wrist.  
“Who is Pitch?”

“Pitch Black used to be a friend, an ally. But his and Manny’s views differed so much that they began to fight. Pitch left us to pursue his own path. His own mission, you could say. Like ours but radically different.” Bunny says.  
Jack taps the staff to the floor, watching the frost spiral over the surface and melt almost immediately after. He looks up at the others and asks, “What do we do now?”  


* * *

_"In other news: Father Sturges, a widely known priest from a small New York City parish, famous for his anti-mutant rants, has gone missing. Sturges disappeared from the St. Peter Roman Catholic church where he resides, late last night…_ ” The radio channel changes with a click.

 _“…theories over his disappearance have exploded on the internet, thousands of falsified tips have flooded into the New York Police Department and many more have begun to argue about it. Was he abducted by a mutant? More than one mutant? Or was he abducted by a normal person attempting to incriminate the mutant community? Is he even still alive? We may not find out for a long, long time…”_ Another click and the channel changes again.

_“...I happen to think it’s a good thing Father Sturges has gone missing. Without him preaching his hate to the uneducated public, there will be more room to learn tolerance-.”_

_“Are you kidding me, Jeanette? Father Sturges’s disappearance is more than likely the beginning of an uprising! You don’t know what those freaks are going to do! With Father Sturges out of the way, mutants have less to do with ‘tolerance’ and more to do with taking over! Don’t you forget about mutant registration, either. Father Sturges supported that and so do I. With registration, things like this will be less likely to occur without repercussions.”_

_“Did you really refer to the mutant community as ‘freaks’? You’re gonna get your just desserts, Alan. Oh, you wait. The moment you leave the studio, the mutants will be on you like wildfire…”_

Pitch Black waves his hand and the radio behind him dies out in soft static, leaving only the sounds of trickling water- a constant in this underground place- and the children.  
It’s easy to hear the children crying where they are imprisoned beneath the thick concrete floor, in the drainage pipes. His boots tap loudly in the wide open space as he walks toward the open grate.  
The grate is a large, circular aperture with thick iron bars across it. The wet, dirty faces of the children peer up at Pitch from below. His smile curls like smoke across his face when a particularly noble freckle splattered child shouts angrily at him, “Let us out!”

He ignores the child and instead posts a menacing mare above the grate. She pants humid breaths and clatters her front hooves over the bars, scaring them. The whinnying she lets out sounds horrifyingly like laughter.  
Each drainage pipe is separated from the other by walls of rubble or compacted black sand, allowing only 10 to 15 students to stand inside each- a prison cell of sorts. Water runs down through the grates, into the pipes and through heavy, metal mesh flooring. If any one of the students were to break through the mesh to the pipe below, he or she would find themselves trapped in a labyrinth of drains and tunnels spread over miles and miles. And if that isn’t discouraging enough, well, then the wicked creatures of Pitch’s fabrication that reside in the tunnels should be more than convincing.

Pitch sets horses as sentinels to each cell, admiring the palpable terror on the air. Their fear gives him strength and oh, it is _exhilarating_. So much fear in such a contained space it nearly makes him dizzy with power. It’s been such a long time since he’s had any real power to speak of. Sure there’s his sand-shifting but that is but a mere parlor trick in the face of his true ability. He has already weakened his foes considerably by taking away what is most precious to them: their believers. Without the students to populate the entirety of the school and to give the Guardians purpose, they will surely wither with their loss. Pitch is certain of it; how can he not be? He has lived for much longer than most of the Guardians but for Bunny, he’s clever and self-assured.  
His old friend, Manny, wasn’t even at the school when he attacked. It was like he left it clean open for Pitch to dive right in. The absence of their precocious leader struck Pitch as very suspicious and has been cautious ever since the realization that something was off even before his arrival.

He paces the length of the control room he’s taken up as his own. Its location had been ideal and still is now that he’s got a captive audience. He stops in front of a globe- its surface made of blackened metal, bronze looking in places where it is not tarnished with little red lights glowing sinisterly. The globe is a replica of the one from the school, though anathema to everything its counterpart stands for. The imitation nearly is a fourth of the size of the original, the red lights showing the populous of normal people rather than mutants.  
Pitch’s smile returns, twice as odious as before, as he gazes up at his creation. Pride takes him over for just a moment. He was not present at the original globe’s creation but it was more than easy to reverse-engineer the technology involved.  
Pitch longed for the day when he would watch those lights flicker and go out by the millions. If everything went according to plan, it wouldn’t be too long before his fantasy would become reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I've made a few itty bitty references to Not-Poignant's Shadows and Light series.  
> If anyone can find them, I'd be delighted!
> 
> Pitch's power becoming stronger due to the fear of others is actually a reference to the old television show "Heroes".


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, everyone. I know some of you who have kept up with this since the beginning have been eager for an update. I really appreciate everyone's patience with me. After the publication of chapter six, I started my first ever semester of college and have been incredibly busy ever since.
> 
> This chapter is short and meant to be a little bit of filler until I can get more written. This chapter is also unbeta'd so, if you see something that's misspelled, doesn't sound right, or is inconsistent with the plot, please let me know.

Sandy signs something and the others nod, contemplative looks on their faces. North helpfully translates for Jack, “He thinks we should stay here. Take some time to gather our strength and then go after Pitch.”  
Jack nods, “That sounds like a good idea. But how are we going to find him? How’re we going to get the others back?”

“Whoa, wait a minute there, Jack,” Bunny says, taking a couple of steps forward, “you aren’t a Guardian, there is no _we_ ; there is _us_  and there is _you_. We’ll be the ones fighting, the ones rescuing and the ones bringing the kids back safe. You come with us, you could get hurt or worse. I won’t allow it.”  
Jack opens his mouth to protest indignantly, when Tooth quickly interjects, “No, think about it, Bunny. North said Jack has to be at least a Level Three- at 17 that’s pretty impressive. We could use his help! He survived Pitch’s attack and saved one of my students. There’s so much we don’t know right now.”

“Exactly, Tooth. We don’t know anything at this point. Nothing of Pitch’s plan, nothing of how this might turn out when we catch up to Pitch- we know absolutely nothing.”

“And when have we ever been afraid of that? When have we ever backed down in the face of an enemy? Even when we weren’t sure of their plans or the outcome? Never.”

“This is Pitch Black we’re talking about. He and Manny go back further than _you_  have ever been alive!”

“If we all look after one another, there shouldn’t be anything to worry about-!”

“That doesn’t mean anything! Don’t you remember when-?”

North’s face takes on a stern set and he begins to speak, “This should not be our decision. It is something that Jack-.”

And then Sandy takes the crystal bell from Manny’s desk once again, trying to get the others’ attention.

The room becomes a cacophony of raised voices and a ringing bell, none of which are particularly conducive to working out their next move.  
Jack looks to Baby Tooth, as if silently asking what to do. Her reply is a shrug and quirk of her mouth as if to say, ‘I’m just as lost as you!’  
He watches the others argue for only a few seconds before gripping his staff tight, power crackling through his veins, and slamming the end of it to the floor heavily, discharging a sudden burst of cold. The force of his power is like shockwave- a wind, hard enough to ruffle Tooth’s feathers and blow North’s long beard into his face.

The moment after is quiet, fraught with surprised silence. The overhead light flickers a bit and a thin layer of ice covers every available surface- up to and including Baby Tooth’s tiny wings, which she flutters rapidly to rid herself of the frost.

“Arguing about this isn’t going to solve anything. I’m old enough to make my own decisions about my well-being, aren’t I? I’m more than aware that I could get hurt. I ran away from home, knowing damn well what risks were involved. I’m pretty certain I can figure out the danger in this. And I know we all just met maybe two days ago, but if you’re all going to insist on treating me like a fragile child, this isn’t going to work out.” Jack’s tone is fierce, his jaw set and his eyes narrowed. The ice crystals in the room sparkle in the light from the overhead fixture. The room is at a stand-still, the Guardians realizing the weight of their actions. 

“Now, why don’t we get back to trying to figure out our next move instead of arguing over whether or not I’m responsible enough to make my own choices?” Jack snaps, using the curved end of the staff to point at each of the Guardians. He sees the guilt in their postures, the near-reluctance in the way they unwind as if unwilling to admit to a lapse in adult judgment.

Jack leans his weight against the staff, the long end digging into the carpet and establishing a half-way stable base.

“Let’s think. What’s so important _about_  the kids that Pitch would need to take them?”

“It gives him leverage over us,” Tooth says, straightening her feathers, "the children are our purpose. We’re here to protect them, to keep them safe.” 

“But if he takes them away, I suppose we’ve technically failed them, haven’t we?” Bunny chimes in, brows pushing together, shoulders tensing.

The room grows dismal and Jack breaks the heavy atmosphere by saying, "So, the point of taking the kids was what? To weaken us?" He stands up straight, swinging the staff up and twirling it over his head, very nearly hitting the light above.

"Maybe he thinks that if he gets us down, gets us faithless enough, we won't be able to stop what he's got planned...?" Jack suggests. No one says anything about the sudden reappearance of the word 'us'.

"That sounds really thin. He took the children to make us too sad to stop him? That doesn't sound like Pitch." Bunny replies.

"Well, I haven't exactly met the guy, have I?" Jack shrugs, no sarcasm or malice to his words.  
"What do the kids represent that could be challenged by kidnapping them?"

Sandy signs something and Tooth translates it as, "Power."

"Metaphorical or literal?"

"Maybe both. Metaphorically, by taking the children he has power over us, knows we'll do anything to get them back. In a literal sense, the children are untapped potential, uncontrolled chaos if they're young enough." Tooth crosses her arms over her chest and buzzes her wings nervously.

"So, what, he might be using them as a... power source?" Jack paces, fidgeting with the staff. 

"Is possible. Some mutations are very dangerous. When children cannot control them, they come here. We teach them the best ways to keep themselves in check. This place... is like bomb, sometimes. We get three years old child who can burst to flames, is hard to help them understand. They will be like- how should I say?... walking batteries... with such potential energy and no way to cope with keeping it inside themselves. If this makes sense?" North's mouth purses with slight frustration at his inability to find the words he needs.

"You're saying that this whole place is essentially like a supermarket for the most powerful mutants with the least control?" Bunny asks.

"Yes. Exactly." 

"Could Pitch really be using the kids as a power source?"

Sandy's face is grim as he signs, eyes alight on Jack's, "He says that it's a possibility."

"A very real one at that."

Jack halts his anxious track, "If he _is_  using them as a power source, what is it that needs mutant batteries?"

"That is what we are needing to find out." North rumbles ominously.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!  
> I'm also very sorry for the ridiculous amount of time it took me to update this fic. I had lost interest in writing toward it for a long time and it was hard for me to get back into it. I really wanted to do a sizable update as a way to get back into this and that's what I did. This chapter is nearly 3,000 words and is one of the longest, as most of the rest of the chapters are about 1,000 - 2,000 words. I hope to start updating it regularly, again.
> 
> Anyone who is still excited to read this and is still following along, I really appreciate your patience! **This chapter is unbeta'd, but will receive edits after posting.**

Father Sturges wakes slowly, his head throbbing. The first thing he registers is the sticky feeling of humidity and the grit of dirt that has adhered to the moisture on his skin. The next thing that registers is that he is restrained in a seated position. He can't move his arms or legs, and currently, he is too groggy to realize that he's not restrained to a chair at all. He'll come to realize this soon enough. Father Sturges can't see much, the lights are dim and red tinted, but they at least cast enough light to make out his surroundings. The walls are slick with water and curve from ceiling to floor, like a giant pipe. He's sweating even though it's quite cool, and his eyes sting from sweat dripping down into them. Father Sturges tests his bonds but finds that they're immovable, there's not even enough slack for him to feel what it is that's holding him. In the low, red light he can't really make out what he's sitting on, but it looks black and solid, and it's cold where it presses against his body. Nor can he see where the source of light is, but his whole body runs cold when it shifts somewhere behind him. The sound of slow footsteps echo in the cavernous space, and darkness takes over where the light had previously shined.

"Sturges." The voice joins the echoing footsteps.

Father Sturges says nothing, opting to keep calm instead.

"You have a son, do you not?"

If his situation hadn't already done so, that statement alone would have inspired immediate alert. Father Sturges clenches his fists, his knuckles digging painfully into the material of his seat, what feels like little rocks pressing into his skin.

"I do," He replies softly, "Who are you?"

The footsteps come around and a tall man steps in front of Father Sturges, holding a small spherical object in his hands. The object proves to be the source of light, putting off a strong red glow. Once Father Sturges's eyes adjust, he can make out that it's a globe with thousands- millions- of little red lights dotting its surface. The man holding the globe is obscured by the light, and he uses this to his advantage.

"He's so young, your sweet Daniel. Only, what, six years old? And his mutation is already so strong. Some people might call that an act of God."

Father Sturges sucks in a quiet, shocked breath, a wave of fear rolling down his spine.

"Does Daniel know you're working to destroy mutants? What would he say if he knew you didn't want him out in public? Do you think he'd be hurt?"

"Not- not _destroy_. Never something so horrid. _Registering_ mutants is important-."

"WHY?" The man suddenly roars, causing Father Sturges to startle in his seat.

"Remove the privacy of so many thousands of mutants? For _what?"_ He hisses.

"Because I want my son to be safe! He may be a mutant, but what about the others that use their abilities for terrible things? What about the mutants that blow up cars and destroy storefronts for fun? How can I know who is safe to be around?"

Chuckling, the man pulls the globe toward himself, leaning closer as he does so. His face is illuminated from below sinisterly and Father Sturges rears back at the sight.

"My God," he gasps, "It's you."

Pitch's smile spreads slowly and unctuously across his face, awash in red, "You see these lights? They stand for every single human on the surface of the earth," he passes a hand over the globe and the lights flicker, "You're going to help me put them out."

* * *

Pitch strides down the corridor at a fast clip, Father Sturges following closely behind, encased in a moving mass of black sand. The air breezes by, cooling his already clammy skin further. They pass under banks of lights, many of them dark or broken, but the few that do work illuminate their passage well enough. Father Sturges can see water leaking from the ceiling, and moldy residue that looks like it's been building up for years growing down the curved walls. He can even hear the water dripping as they go, a constant noise all around. More distantly, he can hear what sounds like children crying out. They take a series of lefts and rights and go up more flights of stairs than Father Sturges can count.

"The issue of mutant registration has been proposed to the federal government, did you know?" Pitch asks, his rich voice echoing.

Through a tight jaw, Father Sturges replies, "No. I had no idea."

"That's quite surprising. Seems like someone like you would keep up with that as much as possible. It's in the early stages of legislative approval. But it looks like it may make it to the next phase." 

He pauses at a heavy looking, metal door. It only takes him a moment to push it open, and then he's moving outside, pulling Father Sturges behind him. Stars are spattered across the sky, constellations clear in the night, and thousands of evergreen trees are visible over the edge of high concrete walls. The ground is covered with snow, and Father Sturges can see his breath steaming in thick white puffs in front of his face. Suddenly, he is much more frightened than he had been before.  
He watches as Pitch walks him up to a large machine, discomfort roiling in his gut so strongly that he has to shift in his own strange seat. The machine looks like a thick, blocky but plain metal chair, with an odd looking metal headpiece attached to the back. The sand beneath him dissolves with a wave of Pitch's arm and Father Sturges is sitting in the snow. He is lifted by the neck of his coat by large, black horses, and is set back on his feet. He looks around to find that they're surrounded by horses, their eyes glowing yellow and their manes fluttering as if being blown by a gust of wind that isn't there. One horse pushes him none too gently toward the chair.

"If you could please take a seat." Pitch says, disingenuous in his courtesy.

Father Sturges shuffles through the snow to sit down in the icy cold chair. He doesn't try to make a run for it, he doesn't know what Pitch's powers are exactly, but he knows that Pitch must be controlling the horses. They would catch him effortlessly in moments. In the wintery air, the sweat on his body has cooled unpleasantly, and he is shivering, now. Pitch comes around and sets the headpiece atop Father Sturges's head . Without warning, smooth metal cuffs glide seamlessly from the arms and legs of the chair, closing and latching before Sturges can even blink. Pitch strides away, standing at a distance from him and the chair. 

"What is this?" Father Sturges demands, tugging his arms against the cuffs.

"In the event of your death, would you like me to deliver your effects to your family? Your clothing and such?"

"My death? What in God's name is this? What have you done?"

"It's fairly simple. I've made a machine with a purpose in mind, and you're my first test subject. If this works, you will become a mutant. It really is simple, I hope you're following."

Father Sturges begins loudly protesting, his voice panicked, "You can't do that! You _can't_ do that! My wife, my son, what will they do if I die? My _son-!_ "

"I think you're forgetting something, Sturges," Pitch speaks over him, "I can do _whatever I want_."

He raises his arms, palms out toward the other man, fingers spread wide, and suddenly, the horses are bounding around the chair as if spooked into a stampede. Their heavy hooves kick up snow and chunks of frozen dirt, a breeze coming off of them as they run. They go faster and faster with every successive circle until Father Sturges can't see the world past their glittering hides. The wind from the speeding beasts has become so strong that it whips his hair up around his head, flickering the lapels of his coat and the hems of his pants. Sturges clenches his eyes shut and tries to hide his face in his shoulder as much as the restrictive headpiece will allow. He can hear some kind of crackling and can see little flashes of light through his eyelids. The crackling gets stronger and louder, the lights brighter, and when he peeks through narrowed eyelids, he can see electricity arcing around the horses, over his head. Soon after the electricity has built to a constant, grains of sand begin flecking against his exposed skin, stinging where they land. After only moments, he is being pelted with sand, his body burns with it, and it tears through his clothing, collecting in thick layers on his skin. He thinks he can feel it sinking into his flesh, and it _hurts_ so intensely that he can't help but start screaming. It is a mistake, though, because the flow of sand is so unrelenting that it gets in his mouth, crisp between his molars and choking him at the back of his throat.

* * *

The sun hasn't risen yet, but it will in just another hour or two, the sky black and speckled with far off stars. The night outside the mansion is silent, the kind of silent that comes only after something awful has happened, as if all of the ambient noises have been sucked from the very air. Jack and the Guardians still reside in Manny's office, the quiet pulled around them like a blanket, closing them off from the rest of the world, involving them only in their interactions with one another.

"Do we even know what Pitch's powers are?" Jack asks, leaning his weight on the staff, "I feel like if we knew his powers, we'd be able to prepare for offense or defense better."

"We... don't actually know the full extent of his mutation. We just know that he's powerful." Tooth replies, running her hand over the feathers on her head. She seems a little embarrassed about their not knowing.

"There's not much we know about him at all, really." Bunny shrugs, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"So what _do_ we know?"

"He definitely has some sort of psycho-kinetic ability. Those horses were made of sand." North says without hesitation.

Sandy signs something that Tooth translates, "Sandy thinks he can control them. Not just make them but control them."

"That's... frightening." Jack mumbles, tossing himself down in the chair, leaning the staff against the side and rubbing a hand over his brow. Baby Tooth leans over from her perch on the arm of the chair and sets her head on Jack's shoulder comfortingly.

"Then he's strong, very strong." Bunny says, sliding down the side of the desk he's leaning on to sit on the floor, "The amount of energy it would take to control that big of a creature and in the number of them that attacked us tonight would be spectacular. No regular mutant could do that."

"So we've got nothing other than "controls sand animals" and "really powerful". Great." Jack says, blowing air through his lips.

* * *

The crackling of electricity ceases, the wind dies down, the rumble of hooves fades, and Father Sturges sits in the chair, face plastered to his shoulder and very still. He is covered in a thick crust of dark sand, made so from the furious speed at which the horses ran, dissolving themselves in order to change him. Pitch waits with bated breath, eager to see if his experiment has worked. Sturges gasps in a rough breath, the crust of sand over his chest breaking with a loud _crack!_

Every breath he takes rattles in his chest and it sounds as if he's in tremendous pain, gasping and shaking as he breathes. He pulls his head from his shoulder very slowly, the hard shell crumbling though no sand falls from his exterior. Which is unusual considering the amount that is already there. He yells as he pulls, trying to separate his face from where he'd curled in into his shoulder to protect it from the whirlwinds. The half of his face that had been left uncovered is thoroughly coated by the sand, blocking his vision completely in that eye. When he finally gets himself free, it has exposed the other eye, which is bloodshot looking and glazed over. Pitch walks over to him slowly, cautiously, as if Sturges will fall away before his very eyes.

"How does it feel?" He asks, reverently as he stares intently at the mutant he may have just created.

It takes a moment for Father Sturges to be able to force it out through lips still mostly sealed, a few grunts punctuating his efforts. He murmurs, so softly, "I feel like a monster."

Pitch sneers at him and laughs, "You should feel _useful!_ You've proven me correct, and I intend to use this knowledge to my benefit."

"Let me go. I want to see my family. I want to go home." He whispers, voice warbling, his body going lax in his seat. Pitch unlocks the cuffs on the chair, moving the headpiece off of Sturges's head. By controlling the sand coating Sturges, Pitch is able to make him walk unsteadily back to the door they first exited through. Their steamy breaths trail behind them.

* * *

Sturges sits on the floor in the same pipe-like room he awoke in, lit up by the globe resting a few feet away, his rough frame slumped against the wall like a broken toy discarded to the side. He stays where he was left for an unknowable amount of time, listening to the constant sound of trickling water and cries of children so distant they could be a hallucination. He moves his hand across the floor of the pipe and the hard exterior of it sounds like a rock skidding across cement. He lifts his hand to stare at it, to try and find a way that it still looks like his hand, but it doesn't. He lets his arm fall back down, listless. Sturges needs help, he needs to escape, and if he truly is a mutant now, he'll use whatever he can to get out. He has an idea of where he is currently, and he knows where the closest safe place is.

Using his only exposed eye, he looks around as thoroughly as possible for some way out. There's a hole in the ceiling through which a thin stream of water is running and a metal grate in the floor- the latter being his best bet. The water here has to drain somewhere, and he thinks that maybe he can use that to his advantage. Sturges stiffly and slowly pulls himself to the metal grating. It's difficult, his mobility severely restricted, his body in pain. It takes him long minutes to drag himself over the metal grating, and when he gets there, he drops onto the cool metal with a _clang_. Upon relaxing his entire body, Father Sturges begins to collapse, body grinding down into particles and seeping through the narrow holes in the metal.

He dusts down into another pipe, this one with several inches of flowing water that leads to another grate covered drain. Father Sturges is washed down this drain, and down countless others, through innumerable pipes, until he is drained into a river.

* * *

There is a pensive moment among them after Jack asks, "So, what do we do, now?"

"We've got nothing. We don't know anything about his mutation, his plans, or even why he took the kids." Jack flings his hands out in front of his chest gesturing to the literal nothing in front of him. Baby Tooth climbs up onto his shoulders and instead rests her head atop his.

"It is very late. Or very early. Maybe we should rest as much as we can before we try to think of anything else. Has been a very long night." North says, tiredly.

The others murmur their agreements, shifting and making their way to the door of the office. It is only when they are headed down the stairs to the lower floors and bedrooms that a booming knock comes from the main entrance of the mansion. They freeze, exchanging various looks of confusion, suspicion, and alarm. It's the second knock, echoing through the empty hallways, that startles them and has them jolting into sudden action, all five of them booking it down the stairs. Baby Tooth holds onto Jack's hair with both hands, trying to remain as steady as possible during the flurry of movement.

Tooth reaches the door first, flinging it wide open, the expression on her face one of fierce determination. As if Pitch and his demonic horses would be using the front door this time and she is ready to protect what is left of her home. Instead, the door is opened to reveal a man, hunched over, appearing as if he's been nearly burned alive. On the horizon, the sun is just barely pinkening the sky with its rays.

The man's voice is a withered husk and hard to understand when he says, "I am Father Antony Sturges, I would like to speak with the headmaster of this school, Professor Lunanoff. I’d like to speak to Manny."


End file.
